The Obsidian Phoenix
by candle340
Summary: Voldemort survived the battle thought to have killed him, and has in turn killed Harry Potter's wife and children. Now Harry wishes only for death. After fulfilling his desire, he is given a choice, and decides to go back and try to correct a mistake.
1. Prologue: Death's Gift

**The Obsidian Phoenix**

**By Michael "candle" Mazzaferri**

**ΩЬȿίδίαη ρϦϕεηίϗ**

Summary: Every thing has gone wrong. Voldemort survived the battle thought to have killed him, and has in turn killed Harry Potter's wife and children. Now Harry wishes only for death. After fulfilling his desire, he is given a choice, and decides to go back and try to correct a terrible mistake.

Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction based on the previous works of J.K. Rowling and Piers Anthony. Anything recognized from their respective fiction is owned by them and their publishers, not me. Any characters, events, or places elsewise are mine, and mine alone. This story was also inspired by the works of S'TarKan, Intromit, and Rasberry Jo, all of whom have derived their stories from J.K. Rowling.

**ΩЬȿίδίαη ρϦϕεηίϗ**

Prologue: Death's Gift

Harry Potter gazed out across the sea at the small chain of islands that had belonged to his family for generations. His wild black hair had been slicked down by the rain that trickled to the ground around him. Down the road at his back stood the village where his parents had been murdered when he was a baby. The particular island where Harry's emerald gaze fell had been home to his family for generations. He had even lived there with his wife and children after they thought the war was over. They were wrong.

Harry remembered all those that had died during the war. Sometimes, it seemed as if everyone he ever knew or loved ended up dead because of him. First Harry's parents had died to protect him from a sociopathic killer hell-bent on world domination and calling himself Lord Voldemort. Then a boy from school that he barely even knew died just because he was in the wrong place at the wrong time when Voldemort was resurrected.

Not more than a year later, Harry's godfather, Sirius Black had died trying to rescue him from the Death Eaters, Voldemort's elite followers. After that was the death of Albus Dumbledore, one of the oldest and wisest men he had ever known and respected. Once Dumbledore fell, the world around Harry collapsed in on itself. No longer needing to fear Dumbledore, Lord Voldemort, was back in power.

The next two years brought nothing but pain and misery to Harry Potter as, one by one, his friends fell to Voldemort's wand. Harry's only weapon was a prophecy made before he was born – a prophecy Voldemort had never heard the full version of. It spoke of a child that could destroy him, and how neither could truly live while the other survived. Known by his lightning bolt shaped scar, Harry Potter was that child.

On the eve of the seventeenth anniversary of his parents' death, Harry Potter was faced with an incredibly tough decision. Voldemort's lackeys had captured one of Harry's closest friends, one who had stood by him even when the world turned its back. Hermione Granger was to be executed at the stroke of midnight unless Harry Potter gave himself up. Losing her was something Harry could not abide – even if it meant the end to the small resistance he led.

Somehow, just as Harry prepared to give himself up, Hermione escaped. But she no longer mattered as Voldemort sprang his trap. Harry had anticipated the ambush, however, and a large battle ensued. Of the two, Harry was the stronger, but Voldemort was far more experienced. For hours, Harry Potter and Lord Voldemort dueled, neither holding an obvious advantage. Raising him slightly from his depressed state of mind, Harry Potter remembered the surprise and joy he had felt at what happened next.

When Hermione learned that Harry had sacrificed himself to save her, she returned to Voldemort's stronghold to help him. Arriving on the battlefield in the nick of time, Hermione was able to distract Voldemort long enough for Harry to gain the upper hand. Together, they defeated Lord Voldemort and put an end to his reign of terror.

Anger filled his green eyes as Harry recalled the terrible events of the past few months. Lord Voldemort had somehow survived the battle, and his followers stumbled upon the little that remained of him nearly six years after the fact. Through the darkest of rituals, they revived him once more. The insane wizard was still filled with contempt for those who had triumphed against him. Voldemort knew that he had to rid himself of them all in one fell swoop.

When he and his followers were finally ready, they fell upon the island where Harry Potter and Hermione Granger lived now that they had been married. It had never fallen in the nearly fifteen hundred years it had been in the Potter family, but that was not the dark lord's plan. Instead, he and a select few would sneak in and destroy Harry's family in the only way they knew how - through terror and pain; through rape and violence. They caught the Potters at home eating a meal, and a new war had begun.

Like the rain, tears flowed freely from the Harry's face as he remembered that horrid night. His children had been tortured in front of his eyes. After the Death Eaters had had their fun, the children were forced to kill each other and the Voldemort's men moved on to his wife. Harry clenched his fists and rage flowed though him as he thought of what they did to her. When faced with the deaths of her children and her own plight, Hermione's mind had fled to try and save her from the terror. Her spine had broken while she writhed in pain and Hermione Potter was left for dead.

All through this, Harry Potter had been left bound upon the floor. He screamed and tried to tear at his bonds, screaming until nothing came. No sound, no thought, nothing. Knowing he had finally had his revenge, the Voldemort placed his archenemy in the care of the dementors – minions that would force Harry to relive every painful memory in vivid detail. He could scarcely remember the coming months. In truth, he did not want to. It was during his captivity that he had been forced to realize the truth.

The night his parents had died at Lord Voldemort's hands had been the cause of it all. When the stick of wood that took Harry's parents from him was finally turned on their baby boy, it had balked. Instead of killing him as intended, that little piece of wood had caused something both marvelous and terrible to happen. When the curse backfired, Voldemort's soul was ripped from his body, and a bond was formed between him and Harry. Indeed, part of the killer's soul had somehow found its way into the Harry's body.

This terrible truth – the fact that the only way for Voldemort to truly die was for Harry to die as well – had been the burden that finally killed his Albus Dumbledore. It was this train of thought that had brought the Harry to this lonely bluff. He had been rescued after just a few short months of captivity only to be forced back into this war he had thought long over.

Faced with no other options, Harry Potter, who had once been a hero, chose to die. He felt there was a certain poetry that it should happen here. Harry had escaped once again, this time from those who sought his guidance rather than his suffering.

Slowly, the tears stopped, though the rain continued to pitter patter, falling faster now. Harry Potter raised his hand, a small slender piece of holly loosely grasped within it. He pointed the stick at his temple, and swiftly uttered two words; just two. It was the same two words that had taken his parents from him; the same words that had been used to kill countless others who had stood against Lord Voldemort. He crumpled to the ground, lifeless, his last thoughts of the only one left who could possibly finish the task he had failed. After all, they not siblings, weren't they? Shouldn't _she_ be able to do what he could not?

Shortly after Harry had taken his final breath, a majestic bird appeared from within the green flame that had just spawned beside him. It was the legendary phoenix, but unlike most phoenixes however, this one had plumage of silver and green. She – for there was no mistaking it was a she – alighted on the corpse's chest and wept, letting out a low, mournful tune. She had protected and guided this poor soul, almost from the cradle. It was she who had rescued him from his torturous captivity; she who had healed his physical wounds.

Once, she had been worshipped as a god and, once upon a time, she could have convinced Death to release his hold, but that had been long, long ago. Now she could only grieve the passing of an old friend. It was a few moments until she heard the sound of hooves striking water. The phoenix lifted her head and gazed out at the sea towards the same island that had been the Harry Potter's last sight.

Impossibly, she saw a dark figure astride a pale horse galloping across the water. The horse leapt, and suddenly they were right next to her. The rider reined in, allowing the regal bird a better look. She cringed back as she realized who exactly he was. This newcomer was clothed entirely in a tattered black robe. On the side of the horse was slung a large farming scythe. As he dismounted, the rider noticed the phoenix and spoke gently, "I did not expect to find you here, Wisdom."

The phoenix trilled back at him, and the rider seemed to understand because he cocked his ear to listen better. He paused for a moment and then knelt beside the lifeless body on which she was perched before gazing at the corpse's face.

"So, this is your protégé? This is the one who was supposed to stay the hand of Armageddon?" He snorted, "Doesn't look like he'll be stopping anything anytime soon."

Once again the majestic bird trilled at him, this time angrily. Ignoring her comment, the dark rider continued, "And here, I thought you were supposed to be an Incarnation. Pray haps we should find a replacement?"

At this, the silver bird fell silent. The rider reached out a hand, and the ancient avian noted that it was bone. He placed his hand onto the man's chest, and it sunk in until all that was visible were the wrist bones as they came out of the black robe's sleeve. Tendons pulled taught, and the figure slowly pulled back.

Clutched in his hand was what appeared to be a silver piece of fabric, though closer inspection revealed it to actually be mottled black and white. This is what the rider had come for. He was the Incarnation of Death after all, and it was his job to collect the souls of those whose lives had been of near perfect balance. Attached to the soul was a tattered remnant that was almost entirely black. He could tell that this did not belong to the man for whom he had come.

In his many centuries as the Reaper, this man had become able to read a person's soul just by the size and shape of the white splotches that were their good deeds, and the black blots that were their sins. He could tell that this man had led a good life with many great deeds by the fact that all the white areas were large. However, there were countless small black spots, all of a similar shape. The Reaper knew that these were the shape of murder, but he also knew that most of those deaths – like that of the Hermione Potter and their children – were not truly his fault. Others were those he had personally led or killed in battle. Still others were those that had given their lives to save his.

These were the worst because suicide was widely considered the most terrible of sins. The Harry's own death was by far the largest spot on his soul. Of course sacrifice was holy, and so the imbalance was shoved onto the person for whom the sinner had died. The Reaper knew the system was broken, but he knew he could not fix it and no longer cared to. It was not his place; he was just the ferryman, come to collect the toll.

The Reaper pulled the soul taught, and then gave it a quick yank. The other end tore and came free. He swiftly folded it and tucked it into the bag at his side. He knew the only place to determine where this soul was meant to go was his home in Purgatory. His purpose was not just to collect the souls of those in balance, but to help them to wherever they deserved to spend eternity – be it salvation or damnation. As he mounted his horse again, he glanced back at the minor Incarnation still perched upon the chest of her companion.

"You're welcome to come with me, of course. Maybe you can help me figure out where to place him." With those words, Death turned his horse about and kicked him into a canter. He heard a flap of wings and felt a weight press in on his right shoulder. Only a portion of his lip turned slightly upward before a portal opened in front of him and he rode off into the land of the lost. The corpse of the man said to save the world lay cold and forgotten on the ground of a loney bluff overlooking a small chain of islands as the rain continued to fall.

Many kilometers away, a young girl of no more than twelve summers awoke with a fright. Her mother rushed into the room at the sounds of her daughter's screams. Though her warm brown eyes were still filled with tears, when her mother asked about the nightmare, the girl did not respond. How could you tell your mother when you weren't even sure of what was so frightening?

As it was with most dreams, the girl could not remember the details very well. What she did remember, however, seemed to fill her with a deep emotional pain and longing. It somehow felt similar to when she had attended her grandfather's funeral last year, but stronger; she felt as if someone she had known and cared for deeply had just died, and she had yet to grieve.

After a few moments in her mother's arms, the bushy-haired girl fell back to sleep, and the mother returned to her husband's side in their bed. The young girl tightly clutched at the sheets she lay under and dreamed again. This time, the dreams seemed to be of a more peaceful nature, and the girl forgot all about the nightmare and the emotions that it brought.

Still further away, in what was called a normal house by most, a young and most unusual boy with wild black hair and brilliant green eyes awakened from a strange dream. He had dreamt of magic and evil wizards, of love and pain, and of a life away from his hated aunt and uncle. Shortly there after, he heard his aunt screech and bang on the door to his tiny little cupboard under the stairs, telling him to get up and help make breakfast…


	2. Chapter I: Proof from the Sidelines

**ΩЬȿίδίαη ρϦϕεηίϗ**

Chapter I: Proof from the Sidelines

"Up! Get up! Now!" screeched a horse-faced woman with the neck of a giraffe. A young boy with wild black hair awoke with a start. The world around him was blurry, so he naturally reached over to grab his glasses. Unfortunately, his hand found the wall instead, and he jammed his middle finger.

"Are you up yet?" the woman demanded. Harry Potter quickly reached to the other side and shoved his glasses onto his face before responding.

"Nearly." Harry stared at his finger as he remembered why exactly he had reached to _that_ side of the bed. He'd had a dream last night where his night stand stood on the right of his bed. To his left slept a beautiful woman, but not just any woman. She was his wife and the mother of his children.

It truly had been a strange dream. Having started off no different than any other day in his dreadfully dull life, Harry had received an invitation to attend a private school up in Scotland where they taught _magic_ of all things. At the end of each year in his dream, he had to confront the evil wizard who had murdered his parents. Obviously it was just a dream. Harry's parents _did_ die, but in a car crash when he was a baby. They weren't murdered. He even had a scar to prove it.

"Well get moving." His aunt continued on about her business as Harry put on a fresh shirt for the day. He was only allowed three baths a week and had used his last one yesterday. "And watch the bacon; it's my Diddykin's birthday today, so it needs to be perfect."

"Yes, Aunt Petunia," Harry replied as he left the small cupboard that was his bedroom and moved to the kitchen so he could mind the stove.

Petunia Dursley sighed as she hung up the phone. Now what would she do. "Bad news, Vernon," she said as she walked into the living room. "Mrs. Figg broke her leg earlier, so she can't take him today. The problem is, I can't think of anyone else on such short notice, either."

"Then we'll just have to take him with us. I won't stand for leaving him in this house alone; there's no telling what mischief he could get into!" her husband replied as he read the morning paper. Still in the kitchen, Harry could hardly believe his ears. It was just like his dream!

At the outset, the crazy cat lady next door broke her leg and Harry had been allowed to go to the zoo with his aunt and uncle for Dudley's birthday. Of course, that had been when the silliness started. In the reptile house, he had a conversation with a snake. Harry knew it wasn't possible of course, since snakes were just animals and couldn't talk.

After breakfast, where his rather large cousin ate almost everything on the table including Harry's own meager meal, Vernon Dursley spoke up. "Son, I'm afraid I have a bit of bad news for you. We have to take Harry with us."

The portly boy looked up in disbelief as he finished his fifth egg that morning. "But he can't! What about the cat lady? Can't she take him?"

"I'm sorry, sweetie, but she broke her leg and had to go to the hospital," his mother replied. She simply hated upsetting her perfect son.

"But it's my birthday today! Dad, I don't want him to go!" Dudley protested. He could always get what he wanted from his parents, and right now he wanted his stupid cousin not to come with them to the zoo. He didn't notice as that very cousin snitched his toast back. At least Harry would have something in his stomach that morning.

"Now, Dudley, it's no use arguing. There is nothing we can do," Vernon replied as he tried to console his son. "You know we wouldn't allow him to come if there were any other choice." The large man went back to his breakfast before telling Dudley to go get ready so they could pick up his friends.

Later, as the Dursleys made ready to leave home, Vernon slammed the car door in his nephew's face before saying, "Any funny business, any at all, and you'll be stuck in that cupboard for a month. Understand, boy?"

"Yes, Uncle Vernon," Harry Potter replied. He knew this was no empty threat. His uncle had done just that the few times in the past when unexplainable things had happened around him.

"Good, now get in." Vernon Dursley quickly walked around and got into the driver's seat as Harry sat next to his cousin.

Later, after they had wandered the zoo for a bit, the Dursleys and the rest of their party stood just outside the reptile house. "Mum, can we go see the lizards and snakes? I really want to see them!" Dudley grabbed his mother's arm and almost tried to drag her to the building in question. The only thing that stopped him was the fact that she immediately started walking towards it.

"Sure, honey. Let's go see the snakes." Harry was a bit apprehensive as the Dursleys walked up the steps. What his uncle said earlier had gotten him thinking. Strange things always seemed to happen around him. There was that one time he had jumped over a couple of trash bins outside the school while trying to escape from Dudley and his bully friend Piers and had somehow landed on _top_ of the building. On another occasion his aunt had decided to do something about his unruly hair and cut it very short so that it was not such a mess. Unfortunately, Petunia Dursley was no barber and did a poor job. Harry has been so humiliated, yet the very next morning his hair was just as it had been the day before – medium length and wild.

So many strange and unexplainable things happened either to or around him that it seemed as if it the only explanation was magic. Perhaps, there was a bit of truth to the dream after all. It was this thought that halted Harry in his tracks as his relatives entered the reptile house. If it was true, only pain and misery lay in his future. Of course if it wasn't, then his life was likely to be nothing more than dreadfully dull and monotonous. Harry was brought out of his musings as his uncle realized they were missing someone and turned around. "Are you coming, boy?"

"Yes, Uncle Vernon," he replied. As he entered the building Harry realized that running away would have solved nothing. Either the dream was real or it was not, and this was simply a way to confirm that truth. If a snake happened to talk to him, then he would just have to deal with it. Regardless of what the future contained, Harry knew he did not want to upset his uncle anymore than he had to.

**ΩЬȿίδίαη ρϦϕεηίϗ**

Amy was bored out of her mind. This was the fifth time she had been to the zoo, and in as many months, too! She was a foster child, and it seemed like every new family she stayed with wanted to give the image of them being perfect. Of course that invariably led to "family outings," and most of those were trips to the zoo, regardless of how many times Amy said she had already been there. She truly did not understand why these couples could not get it through their thick skulls that visiting a collection of captive animals wasn't fun or interesting! Why would someone want to pay to watch an animal just sit there and not do anything?

This would also be the fifth time Amy entered the reptile house. In her mind, it was the only thing worthwhile at the zoo. The lizards may have just lain there basking in the warm sun, but the snakes were always on the move. She just loved to watch them slither around, so perfectly smooth and sinuous. It was almost like watching a lava lamp; everything was always shifting. Amy had heard that quite often the snakes acted the same as the lizards, but she had never seen them do so.

As the new "family" – this time a young couple in their lower thirties – entered the reptile house, Amy noticed another group move in front of the python enclosure. The python seemed to be asleep – the first time she had ever seen it do so. She watched as the heavy set boy quickly grew bored and moved on, but the skinny one stayed behind. As Amy slowly started towards the cage, she noticed the boy was talking to the sleeping serpent. When she grew near, the python woke up, and then _it_ talked. It actually spoke! She was sure it wasn't English, but she still understood what was being said, nonetheless. A quick look at the boy's face showed him to be resigned of all things. Like talking snakes were as every day to him as waking up and bacon with breakfast!

"Mum, come look! You'll never guess what this snake is doing." Amy quickly backed away as the obese boy ran back after noticing that the snake was awake. The thinner one didn't seem to see or even hear him and was curtly pushed aside. Amy felt her temper rise as she watched from the sideline. Some people just had no manners! She watched as the boy pushed his greasy nose to the glass for a better look. Suddenly, the glass disappeared and he fell in.

As the boy floundered around, trying to right himself from the pond he had fallen into, the snake slithered out and quickly left. Amy heard it hiss its thanks as people started panicking and running for the door. The large boy had gotten up and was moving to leave the cage when he suddenly bounced back. The glass had reappeared and the boy's parents had noticed his predicament. The skinny one on the ground started laughing and winked at her. Perhaps she had been noticed after all.

As Amy left the zoo with her foster parents, she realized that Michael, her social worker, would not be thrilled after he learned of this incident and would likely put her in a new home. At least she had not gotten used to this couple yet. Amy had learned _that_ lesson a long time ago.

**ΩЬȿίδίαη ρϦϕεηίϗ**

Well, he had his proof. It hadn't been quite what he was looking for, but it would suffice. Harry had been locked in his cupboard as soon as the Dursleys returned from the zoo. Vernon Dursley thought the vanishing glass had been Harry's fault, and so punished the young boy. It wasn't, of course. Quite to the contrary, it had been that girl standing to the side that had gotten angry and accidentally made the glass wall disappear. That had been his proof. Not the disappearing glass or the talking python, though those helped the case, but the _girl_. It was too much of a coincidence for her to be there.

Harry recognized the girl from his dream, though she had been a bit older when they were first introduced. There could be no mistaking a person with hair that absolutely refused to lay flat. She was a Potter alright, and Harry's twin to boot. Now he just had to figure out how to get her to Hogwarts. After all, if she was real, so were the school and all the magical events that happened there. For the life of him, though, he just couldn't see a way to convince the old man to allow it. He had kept her hidden away for a reason and wasn't likely to back down on that. Oh well, Harry realized, he had a month to figure it all out.


	3. Chapter II: The Strange Letter

**ΩЬȿίδίαη ρϦϕεηίϗ**

Chapter II: The Strange Letter

"…Eighteen, nineteen, twenty," Harry grunted as he finished yet another set of pushups. It had been two days since his uncle locked him in the cupboard after the zoo incident. In that time Harry realized he needed a course of action. While he wasn't sure how to go about things, he knew his primary goal was the utter destruction of the dark wizard who had caused him so much pain over the years. Unfortunately, Voldemort could not be killed in his present state. After all, a soul is immortal, and only the destruction of its physical vessel could send it to the afterlife.

"One, two, three…" Harry started another set as he continued to think. The question was, should he hasten events a bit? Waiting too long to revive Voldemort might allow him to realize Harry's plan and make preparations. He could not do it too early either, else his own preparations would not be complete.

Knowing there really was not much he could do right now, Harry had decided to start himself on an exercise regimen to increase his physique and stamina so he would be a much better fighter when the time came. Considering the size constraints of his prison, the only exercises he could perform were crunches and pushups. He flopped onto his back as he realized there was something he had missed. Rather some_one_ he had forgotten. He whispered a single word, "Athena."

In a blinding flash of green flame, a large bird appeared at the foot of his cot. Her brilliant green and silver plumage shined dully in the light of the lone bulb in the cupboard. It had been cramped with just Harry and his cot, but now the small space was all but unbearable. Almost immediately the bird opened her black beak and a soft trilling escaped from within. Although humans cannot fully understand the songs of birds, Harry seemed to know exactly what was being said.

**ΩЬȿίδίαη ρϦϕεηίϗ**

She was sitting on a swing in the park. She wasn't swinging, just sitting there. This is where she always came when she needed to think or even just get away. She had since she was little, when her classmates first teased her about her hair. She started coming more often when they made fun of her bookish habits and superior grades. The park was her safe haven. They never bothered her here since old Mr. White lived next door. He had a bit of a temper and would yell at any children he saw making trouble, though he was a nice man once you got to know him.

Another plus was the fact that the girl lived just down the street. That was why she was on the swings. She couldn't go home. Not yet, at least. There was just too much tension there, what with her father constantly treating her like she was made of blown glass. Her mother was no better, constantly trying to convince her to let them take her to see a specialist. The girl had been adamant about that. No specialists. Not after the incident with the psychiatrist. Besides, she was much better now. Or, at least that's what her parents thought.

The truth was she had figured out how to control herself during the night. She would not cry out at night anymore. She snorted as she thought about her nightly dreams. "Nightmare" was more like it! With it constantly reoccurring, she was starting to remember it during the day.

She wished she had not. It was only bits and pieces, flashing like a movie that had all the important bits cut out and the remains were spliced together. What she remembered was not all terrifying, but during most of those scenes she was constantly running for her life. Still, they were only dreams, right? It was not like they could hurt her.

"Hey, kiddo. What're you doing?" The girl was stirred out of her thoughts as a man approached.

"Nothing," she replied. "Just thinking." The man's arrival was no surprise to her. It was nearly six after all, almost time for supper.

"Thinking, huh?" He sat on the swing next to the girl. "What about?"

"Stuff," she answered vaguely. The whole reason she came out here was to get away. She just wanted to sit quietly and be alone. That was no longer an option.

They both sat there for a few minutes, the girl enjoying the silence and the man her company. After a little bit, the man spoke again. "Look, your mother and I are worried…" he began. The girl sighed loudly before she stood. She just _knew_ this was why he had come. Why couldn't they leave well enough alone?

The man started up again, "We just want to be sure you're okay, that these dreams are done." He stood as the girl started to walk away. "Hermione, wait!" he called after her.

Hermione had had enough. Suddenly she stopped. "Wait?" she whispered, her back still to the man. Then stronger, "Wait for what?" She turned back to him, eyes narrowed, as she continued. "Wait for these stupid dreams to stop? Wait and hope that they won't drive me crazy? Just wait? I'm learning to live with them, learning to deal with it. What exactly would you have me wait for, father?"

The man was taken aback by his daughter's questions. Hermione turned again and left for home, not realizing she had admitted to still having nightmares. Her father sat back down on the swings wondering how he could help her. Neither one noticed the owl that was perched on a lamp post, nor did they notice when it flew after the girl on her way home.

Just as Hermione arrived back home, still fuming over her argument with her father, the owl landed above the door and hooted. Startled, Hermione looked up, wondering what an owl was doing out by day. It took her a moment to realize something was tied to its leg. Quickly, she held out her arm and called to the bird. It alighted on her and she untied the object more deftly than she thought possible. Afterward, the owl flew away, leaving Hermione mystified on the porch.

As she went inside, Hermione unrolled the object to realize it was a letter. It was addressed in green ink to a Miss Hermione Granger and included her address, even down to her bedroom. On the back was a large seal which contained an ornate letter "H" surround by various animals. Curiously, she opened it after shutting the front door. As she pulled out the contents, however, her mother called out.

"Hermione? Is that you?" Mrs. Granger walked into the front room just as her daughter hid the letter behind her back. "Good, you're home. Where's your father? Supper is almost ready."

"Still at the park," Hermione answered. "He'll be home soon." Her quarrel with him was still forefront in her mind, but she really wanted to examine the letter. Why did it include her bedroom? And why was it delivered by an owl; hadn't the sender ever heard of the postal service? "I'll just go upstairs and get ready."

Her mother returned to the kitchen and Hermione went to her room. Against the far wall were two large bookcases that were crammed full, and to the side, a desk was set underneath the window. She disregarded these, though, and lay on her bed. With her head against the wall, it was her favorite place to read.

From the envelope she pulled a sheaf of what appeared to be thick yellowish paper. Being a bit of a history buff, Hermione soon deduced it was parchment - a type of paper used in the Middle Ages - and began to read the top letter.

_HOGWARTS SCHOOL_

_of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY_

_Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore_

_(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,_

_Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)_

_Dear Miss Granger, We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. Term begins September 1. We await your owl no later than July 31. We hope to see you on the train at term's start._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Minerva McGonagall_

_Minerva McGonagall,_

_Deputy Headmistress_

Indeed, the following pages were a list of books and other things needed for all kinds of sorcery. Hermione could hardly believe her eyes. It had to be some kind of sick joke! Magic simply didn't exist. It was all superstition and myth. It couldn't exist. And yet, she wished it did. If it were real, she would finally have a place where she could belong, a place where the other kids wouldn't tease her just for being different.

"Hermione, dinner!" Hearing her mother calling, Hermione stuffed the letter under her pillow before heading downstairs. As she approached the dining room, she slowed down. Hermione could hear her parents talking softly.

"She is still having nightmares; she as much as told me so, herself, at the park."

"But she's been doing so well! I haven't heard so much as a peep from her during the night."

"I'm just saying what she told me. She got so worked up when I tried to talk to her." Horrified, Hermione tried to remember what she had said to her father at the park. With a shock, she realized he was right. She _had_ admitted to still having those damn nightmares! Hermione straightened her back and steeled herself before entering the dining room. Her parents immediately cut off and never said a word to her about her dreams throughout the meal.

Towards the end, Hermione spoke up. "I received the strangest letter earlier. It was delivered by _owl_ of all things!" With her head down, eyes on her plate, Hermione never noticed how her mother stiffened at the mention of an owl. Not hearing a reaction from either parent, Hermione looked up. "It said I was accepted at a school for magic. But not like illusionist type stuff. This seemed more like it was all about the occult. At least, that was the impression I got from the list of books and supplies that came with it. It wasn't on normal paper, either. It looked like it was parchment. You know the type of paper they used in medieval times?" By now Hermione realized she was babbling and her mouth closed with an audible clack.

After a brief moment, Hermione's father asked, "May we see this letter?" Hermione immediately left the table and raced up to her room and grabbed the letter and all its contents from underneath her pillow. When she returned, she presented it to her father and sat back down at her place. Hermione's father looked it over and read the letter before handing it to her mother.

"What do you think?" he asked as she read it.

"This is indeed parchment," Hermione's mother observed. Like her daughter, Mrs. Granger was a history buff. "But, it looks _new_. Like it was made recently, not several hundred years ago. I don't know why anyone would go to the trouble of making parchment if this were a joke."

"So you think it's real?" Hermione chimed in, hopeful.

"I don't see why not. I have always believed there are just some things we can't explain with science. Perhaps magic is the answer." Mrs. Granger handed the letter back to her daughter. "Does it say where we should go to get these supplies?"

Hermione carefully searched the parchments before answering with a grin. "Hear it is! "All supplies needed for term can be found at Diagon Alley, the entrance for which is hidden behind the Leaky Cauldron pub on Charing Cross Road in London.'"

**ΩЬȿίδίαη ρϦϕεηίϗ**

**A/N:** I'd like to thank everyone who read or reviewed the prologue and first chapter. Honestly, I didn't think this story would be so popular after so long a break. Anyways, I have gone through and edited the previous chapters, though the prologue has seen the most work. I pretty much rewrote the first two thirds of it!

Andromedanaea: I wrote the prologue nearly four years ago when I first started thinking about doing a rewrite, and hadn't really taken a good look at it since. Thanks for pointing out how wordy it was, and the prologue should be much easier to follow now.


	4. Chapter III: Dinner With the Dursleys

**ΩЬȿίδίαη ρϦϕεηίϗ**

Chapter III: Dinner with the Dursleys

Today was an important day. Harry spent much of it out and about, running as he had done since being released from his cupboard last week. While he couldn't keep a constant pace for more than a few minutes, he was getting better. Previously, he had only been able to run for a few seconds before a painful stitch in his side forced him to slow down. Being kept in a small enclosed space for most of your life will do that to you.

With a start, Harry glanced at his watch and hurried home. He didn't want to miss the post man. He couldn't. Today was a very important day. Today, Harry's Hogwarts letter would arrive.

Rounding the corner and speeding down the street, Harry Hersaw he was just in time. The post man pulled up to number four, Privet Drive and Harry rushed to him, offering to take the mail. The post man was thankful; any time he could save would help him get home sooner. With a tip of his hat and a wave, the post man continued on his route leaving Harry standing at the foot of the driveway, a fist full of letters in hand.

Quickly, Harry extracted the Hogwarts letter from the bundle as he walked into the house. He dropped it onto his cot before continuing into the kitchen. There he found his aunt stirring what looked to be an extremely dark and disgusting soup on the stove. Closer inspection revealed the soup to actually be clothing. "What's this?" he asked Petunia.

"Your uniform for secondary school," she replied, not moving from the stove. "I'm dying some clothes so they will look just like everyone else's."

"Oh. I didn't realize it had to be so wet or stinky." Before Petunia could reply to Harry's wry comment, Vernon and Dudley walked into the room, their noses wrinkling at the smell. Quickly, Harry walked over to them and handed the mail to his uncle. "I got the post on my way in."

Vernon eyed his nephew oddly. The boy had recently taken an odd turn, and not in his usual way. He seemed obsessed with fitness, often exercising and running. He also seemed more composed somehow. Perhaps the funny business his parents had been involved with was something they could avoid after all.

"I'm going to go take a shower," Harry said before rushing up the stairs. Dudley pulled some snacks out of the fridge before seating himself in front of the telly, leaving Vernon Dursley alone in the kitchen with his wife. Petunia turned away from the stove, drying her hands on a towel, and glanced at Vernon.

"Let me take a look at those," she said, gesturing toward the mail in his hand. He handed it over, and Petunia rifled through the letters before giving them back with a sigh of relief.

"Looking for something in particular, dear?" Vernon was a bit mystified at his wife's reaction to the mail.

"He's the right age, Vernon. Or near enough as makes no matter. He's going to get that letter soon, and we have to stop it." Petunia turned back to the stove, pulling the pot of dyed clothing off.

"What letter? For who, Dudley?" Vernon's confusion only deepened. It wasn't like his wife to deny their son anything.

"No, Harry. His mother was the same age when she got the letter for that crazy school." Realization suddenly overtook Vernon Dursley.

"But he's seemed so normal lately, are you sure he's going to get it?" Vernon's new found hope that his nephew might grow up to be a respectable member of society started to flag. Petunia only shook her head before answering as she dumped the pot into the sink.

"He's just like Lily was – a few odd occurrences, but for the most part normal." She pulled the soaked clothing from the sink and started to wring them out. "I can see the signs easily enough, Vernon. He's suddenly found himself on the school roof before. And with no explanation as to how he got there."

"He could have climbed up and lied about it to stay out of trouble." Vernon definitely thought his nephew was capable of that.

"Why would he do it, though? He's a smart boy; his school marks prove it. Why would he go somewhere he's not supposed to and then lie about how he got there and not why he was there to begin with?" Petunia finished one shirt and moved on to another. "Besides, what about that time I cut his hair? By the next morning it had grown back, just as messy and unruly as ever."

Vernon, couldn't deny his nephew always seemed in dire need of a haircut. The boy's hair was always a mess – a trait Harry had inherited from his father, Vernon had heard. Still, he felt the need to try to rationalize it anyways. "Maybe it was a growth spurt." The excuse fell flat on Vernon's ears and he recognized just how weak and flimsy it was. Petunia snorted as she pulled free a pair of pants and started wringing the water out of them.

"Yes, that's exactly what happened, Vernon. He had a growth spurt and his messy hair was back overnight." Vernon's shoulders hunched slightly as he heard his wife speak with such obvious sarcasm. "Don't forget the zoo, darling." Petunia's voice was riddled was such derision that Vernon was unsure of how to reply. Of course he remembered the zoo. How could he forget?

With a small and weak voice, Vernon finally replied after a long moment. "What can we do?" He did not want his nephew engaged in the sort of activity that had gotten Petunia's sister killed.

Petunia sighed before placing all the dyed clothing in a basket to be hung out back. "I don't know, Vernon. The only thing I can think to do is get that letter and destroy it before Harry finds out. The last thing I want is for him to end up like his parents." Petunia grabbed the basket and headed for the back door. "Now go get cleaned up. I'm going to hang these up to dry and I'll start dinner when I get back."

**ΩЬȿίδίαη ρϦϕεηίϗ**

Harry stepped into his cupboard, clad only in wet hair and a towel. He quickly turned on the light, relieved that the letter was still on his cot. After dressing in some fresh clothes, he pulled open the envelope, briefly scanning to make sure the letter was just as he remembered it. It was. Everything was exactly the same, even the emerald green ink describing his address down to his cupboard under the stairs.

Sighing with satisfaction, Harry moved over to his night stand and grabbed a piece of paper and a pen. He quickly wrote a reply before calling out for Athena. With a flash, the green and silver bird appeared and trilled softly. Stuffing the new letter into an envelope, Harry tied it to her leg. "Please take this to Hogwarts as soon as possible and return with an answer." He stroked Athena's head before admonishing her, "Be sure to change before you get there."

Athena sang a little plaintively; clearly she was not happy about this bit. "I know, but you're kinda my ace in the hole. I don't want anyone to know about you for a while. At least not like this." The bird seemed to glare at Harry for a moment before vanishing in a bout of green flame. Hearing his aunt call for supper, Harry left the cupboard knowing Athena would do exactly as he asked no matter how much she might grumble and complain.

Dinner was a mostly quiet affair for Harry and his relatives. He hardly touched his meal, moving bits and pieces of it around on his plate. Vernon and Petunia were both pensive as well. Vernon silently wondered how long it would be before his nephew started to change, while Petunia thought only about how she might get to that letter before Harry did. The only person who did not seem subdued in the slightest was Dudley, who ate his overly large portion of spaghetti with gusto.

Harry sat there for a few minutes before apprehensively opening his mouth. He wasn't quite sure how this conversation would go, but he had to give it his best shot. "I received a letter earlier today." Petunia's face went white and she clutched at her husband's knee underneath the table. Was it possible he hid the letter before she got to the post?

Harry paused, briefly noticing his aunt's expression, before continuing on, "It was from a boarding school up in Scotland. It said I had been accepted there." At this, Dudley looked up from his dinner.

"You can't go! You have to go to the public school here while _I_ go to Smeltings." Dudley wasn't actually sure where Smeltings was, but it was the only private school he knew about. Dudley had gotten in because his father, Vernon, went there when he was a boy. Finally Dudley would be free of his annoying cousin!

Harry glanced at his cousin before expertly twirling spaghetti onto his fork. "It's not Smeltings, Dudley, though it does have an odd name."

"What's it called?" Vernon managed to get out as Petunia's grip on his knee increased.

Harry replied with only one word while closely watching his aunt's face for her reaction. "Hogwarts." Vernon winced as his wife's nails dug into his leg. He could only guess what had put her dander up so much.

"Odd name, that. You won't be going, of course," Vernon said casually as he discretely tried to pry Petunia's hand from his thigh. Dudley looked relieved and shoveled more pasta into his mouth. When his dad said something, Dudley believed it, no matter what it was.

Glancing at Vernon before returning his gaze to Petunia, Harry shot back, "I've already sent a reply that I _will _be attending." Dudley dropped his fork and frowned. Harry had never stood up to the Dursleys before.

Finally Petunia opened her mouth, her vocal chords unclenching. "You will most certainly _not_ be going," she said vehemently. "We can't pay for both you and Dudley to go to a private school, and we are _not _putting him in the public system!" It was only the best for her son, and damn the guilt she might feel if she were ever to visit her sister's grave.

"That's why I asked them to send someone to discuss our options, Aunt Petunia." This was actually going a bit better than Harry thought it would. So far his uncle hadn't exploded. A quick glance that way showed him he spoke too soon. Vernon's face had quickly turned an ugly shade of puce at this last comment.

"You invited a stranger into _my_ house to talk about financial matters? Go to your cupboard, _now_! You are done with dinner." Vernon couldn't believe his ears. Earlier today he thought his nephew might end up being a good person, and now here he was, scheming behind their backs. "And you will not be going to that freak school!" he added as an after thought as Harry quickly left the room.

**A/N:** Another week, another chapter. Sadly, though, this is the last one I had pre-written, with chapter four about a third done. That just means I have to get cracking, but be aware I might not have something to upload next week. Once again, thank you, everyone, for all the comments!

ArtanisRose: Keeping Harry's memories in tact is very important to the story; it just wouldn't have worked right otherwise. And the length of chapters isn't really about not having the inspiration to right more (though it may affect when I break to a separate scene), instead, I end chapters where I feel appropriate. Also, do you really want to read a 10-15 page chapter online?

Olaf74: I'm very glad you feel that way. This chapter may have been a bit tame compared to the last, but there is still quite a bit more to come.


	5. Chapter IV: A Convincing Meeting

**ΩЬȿίδίαη ρϦϕεηίϗ**

Chapter IV: A Convincing Meeting

"You want me to _what_?"

Tea sprayed out of his mouth as Severus Snape nearly dropped his cup in shock. In his nearly ten years of teaching at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, he had never heard such an absurd request. It was unthinkable! He looked down his hooked nose at his employer before speaking again, "Surely I misheard you, Albus. You cannot possibly be asking me to do _that_!"

Albus Dumbledore stared right back at Snape over his half-moon glasses. "No, you heard me quite right, Severus. I want you to go to Surrey and speak with Mr. Potter and his relatives." Snape stared back at the Headmaster, flabbergasted.

"But, why? You know how I felt about James Potter! I don't want anything to do with his filthy spawn," Snape spouted, the confusion apparent on his face. He couldn't understand how this man, who had helped him through his darkest trials, could possibly think this was a good idea.

"I also know how you felt about his mother, Severus," Dumbledore replied softly from the wing backed chair situated in Snape's living room. "It would do you well to look past the name and see him for who he truly is."

What ever James Potter was, his wife, Lily had meant a lot to Severus Snape. An intense pain welled up in his chest as he remembered her piercing gaze and easy smile. Snape's heart twisted as he thought about the horror Lily Potter must have felt in her final moments. "No. You don't get to guilt me into this, Albus. Not you," Snape sneered at the old wizard before gesturing towards the door. "Get someone else to do it."

"And who, pray tell, would I send?" Albus Dumbledore was loath to admit he may have made a mistake in asking this of his potions master, but there was little else he could do. "Outside of you and Hagrid, anyone I might ask is already busy elsewhere, and I already have a different task lined up for our dear groundskeeper. He will be doing something very important for me, and I would rather not mix the two." Almost as an afterthought, Dumbledore quietly added, "He has his mother's eyes, Severus."

Severus Snape glanced at the bookcase on the side of the room and took a small sip of his tea before responding, "Alright, I'll do it. Damn you, Albus, but I'll meet with the boy and his relatives." Dumbledore smiled softly before standing, a slight twinkle in his eye.

"Good, good. I've already sent word of your impending arrival." Snape swallowed hard and blinked a few times as Dumbledore moved toward the door. As he left Snape's abode, the wizened wizard added one last bit, "Their address is number four, Privet Drive, and they will expect you at two in the afternoon in three days' time. Don't be late."

With his boss gone, Severus Snape – potions master and professor at Hogwarts – casually reached for the bottle of firewhisky he kept near the fireplace before sitting down heavily in his chair. He would need the liquid courage if he was going to see Lily's emerald eyes again.

**ΩЬȿίδίαη ρϦϕεηίϗ**

Vernon Dursley was worried. An unnatural creature would be coming into his house soon, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. No matter how much he threatened his nephew, the boy would not back down. Not even when Vernon told him they would leave the country to keep Harry from attending that freak school. The only response his nephew gave Vernon was, "They will just find us wherever we go, uncle. You can't hide from magic."

Now _that_ dragged a cold shiver down his spine. Just the mere thought that those freaks could track him down no matter where he went was enough to send Vernon into fits. And it wasn't like he could report these people for invading his privacy, either. Who would believe him? Magic, hah! More like the Dursleys had gone mad.

While these thoughts were running through her husband's mind, Petunia Dursley was worried about a different matter. For the past ten years, her nephew had lived and slept in a small cupboard under the stairs. Too small, really. What would this person think should they learn how she had treated her only nephew for the past decade? She had yet to broker a discussion with her husband on the matter, but Petunia thought she knew how she could remedy it. With trepidation, she stopped her nephew as he came in from his morning run.

"Harry, dear? I've been thinking." Petunia Dursley had never once called her nephew "dear." Hearing himself referenced that way immediately put Harry on edge. He thought he knew what his aunt wanted to talk about, but he was never sure around the woman. "You've been growing, and I don't think you will fit into that cupboard soon. Perhaps it's time we moved you into Dudley's spare room. He hardly ever goes in there, anyway."

Harry had wondered how long it would take them before his relatives brought this issue up. Relieved that he wouldn't have to sleep under the stairs tonight, Harry replied, "If you're sure, Aunt Petunia," before continuing upstairs to take a shower.

After washing away the sweat from his run, Harry returned to his cupboard for what he hoped would be the last time. He quickly toweled off and got dressed before gathering up his meager belongings and baggy hand-me-down clothes. Barreling up the stairs, Harry nearly ran into his portly cousin, but was able to stop himself short just in time.

"Watch where you're going, freak," Dudley growled before glancing at the bundle in Harry's arms. "What are you doing up here with all that, anyway?"

Harry didn't respond and pushed his way past Dudley. As he walked into the spare bedroom, he thought better of leaving his cousin clueless and simply replied, "Go ask your mother."

Dudley was left standing in the hallway, mouth hanging open. His cousin had changed in the past week. Ever since that strange letter had arrived, Dudley was seeing a side of Harry he never knew existed. Before flies started rushing in, Dudley shut his mouth and rushed downstairs to find out what was going on.

The next day saw Vernon even more apprehensive over the impending visit from the school official. When his wife told him that Harry would be staying in the spare room and why, all he did was nod, a little relieved that she could still think at a time like this. Restlessly, Vernon Dursley moved from one room to another, making sure every thing was spick-and-span. It was a rare occurrence for him to be cleaning instead of Petunia or Harry, but a nervous Vernon made for a busy Vernon.

Finally stopping to rest, and afraid to look at the time, Vernon asked his nephew, "When is he supposed to be here, Harry?" before sitting down in the living room.

Harry replied without even glancing at the clock, "Ten minutes, I think." Vernon ran over what he was going to say one last time. He would tell the official that Harry would not be attending, and that would be that, right? After all, the boy was his legal ward. He knew what was best for his nephew, even if that nephew refused to believe it. Sure, Harry would rail at him for a while, but he would thank Vernon in the end. Yes, it was much better for him to live a normal, natural life than get mixed up in the same sort of funny business that got Petunia's sister killed.

Vernon was brought out of his musings when a sharp rap, rapping sounded from the front door. Doubt started to cloud his mind once again as he contemplated getting up from his chair. Another knock rang through the room as he decided against it. Gathering his strength, he said one thing, "Dudley, get the door."

Dudley was terrified. He wasn't entirely sure what was going on, but he knew this person was important. He also knew his father was afraid, which was something he had never seen before. Whatever it was that could make his dad scared was something Dudley didn't want to face. "Make Harry get it," he shot back in a small voice.

Vernon called out, "Get the door, Harry," glad for an easy scapegoat.

Harry, however, was no more eager to answer the door than Vernon or Dudley had been. The last he had seen of most of the Hogwarts staff had been their charred remains in the ruins of the ancient Scottish castle. Voldemort had laid siege to the school soon after the Potters were dealt with during his resurgence after the second war. The knocking grew more insistent as he answered, "Make Dudley get it."

Vernon's mouth opened then closed again like a fish out of water, but Petunia could not stand the wait any longer. "Oh, for heaven's sake!" she cried out as she jumped to her feet and crossed the room. The knocking stopped as she called out, "I'm coming!" When she reached the door, though, she hesitated before gripping the knob and twisting it. She had no idea who would be on the other side, either. Not wanting to be a part of what would come next, Dudley scurried up to his room as fast as his legs would take him just as Petunia opened the door.

**ΩЬȿίδίαη ρϦϕεηίϗ**

Severus Snape was impatient. He had arrived at the Dursleys' house at precisely two o'clock just as he was supposed to. Yet here it was, five minutes past, and still no one had answered the door. For a moment he considered the possibility that they weren't home even though their car was in the drive.

Just as he was getting ready to head back to Hogwarts, his task unfinished, he heard a woman call out from inside. Severus steeled himself for what was coming next. He hadn't seen Petunia Evans in more than fifteen years, and though they had never been friends, they had shared a common link. Lily Potter. When the door opened to reveal a long-necked woman with a face reminiscent of a horse, Severus let out the breath he hadn't known he was holding. She may have looked older, but it was still clearly Lily's sister that stood before him.

"Who are you and what do you want?" Petunia snapped, looking oddly at the man in front of her. His black hair looked to be very greasy, and his nose very hooked, but it was his state of dress that was the most out of place in the ordinary neighborhood. He was wearing a set of long, black robes, much like you would see at commencement ceremonies. But this was the end of July; commencement would have been a couple months ago! There was something slightly familiar about him, too, but she couldn't quite place her finger on what. "Are you from that school?" she asked, remembering that her sister had constantly worn similar robes after her letter arrived.

Severus realized that Petunia had not recognized him. After all, it _had_ been at least fifteen years since they last saw each other and that, only in passing. "Good afternoon Mrs. Dursley," Severus drawled out. "I am Professor Snape from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

Petunia's eyes widened as soon as she heard the man's name. "Severus?" she whispered. At his slight nod, she grabbed his arm and nearly dragged the stunned potions master into her living room. "Get in here. Quickly!" she commanded, looking left and right to see if any of the neighbors had noticed the man and his odd appearance. When she didn't see anything out of place, Petunia Dursley shut the door and moved to sit beside her husband. Snape, however, stood stock still as he looked at Harry Potter. The boy truly did look like the spitting image of his father, except for one thing.

"Dear Merlin," Severus whispered as Harry looked up at him. It was like seeing Lily alive and breathing again to see those eyes. Their emerald green hue was so bright and vibrant, yet dark and complex, all at the same time. Severus tore himself from the boy's gaze before turning to the large man sitting in what looked to be a very comfortable, but sturdy armchair. This, he presumed was the man of the house. "Hello, Mr. Dursley. As I was telling your wife at the door, I am Professor Snape from Hogwa-"

Snape was cut off as Vernon Dursley stood up and jabbed his finger at the man in front of him. "I don't care who you are, or where you're from. My nephew will not be going to that freak school! I will not pay to have him learn cheap parlor tricks from people like you. I won't stand for it! The boy will go to a public school where he will learn normal things. And when he is done, he will lead a normal life well away from you and your freakishness." By the time Vernon had finished his tirade, his face was puce and the vein in his forehead was visibly throbbing.

Severus Snape was taken aback by Vernon's ferocity. He knew Petunia didn't like magic, but had hoped some of those feelings would have dissipated over the years. To hear her husband start spouting the same sort of nonsense Petunia had that last time he saw her was disheartening. Severus knew his job today would not be all that easy.

Calmly, Severus tried to reason with the large man, "I had thought perhaps you just needed a few answers to some of your questions, but I see now that I was wrong. Let's get some things straight, Mr. Dursley." Snape's voice grew increasingly cold as he continued on, "Your nephew is not a freak; he is not abnormal. He is a proper wizard, not some muggle illusionist, and he _will_ be going to Hogwarts – his name has been on the roll since before he was born. It's unthinkable for a Potter not to attend; they have been going since the school first started over a thousand years ago! And as for payment, do you really think his parents would have left him nothing? They made plans to take care of his tuition before they died." Vernon Dursley just stared, the vein on his forehead pulsating. He wasn't used to people arguing with him, and had never been rebuked so quickly and thoroughly.

Seeing his uncle rendered speechless by Snape forced Harry to bark out a quick laugh. He had hoped Dumbledore would send Hagrid again, but seeing Snape put Vernon in his place was almost worth it, despite the fact that it was _Snape_ of all people. Both men broke away from their impromptu staring contest to look at the young boy who was the root cause of their current situation. Having both the rage filled stare of his uncle and the icy glare of the professor turned on him caused Harry to quail slightly before speaking up.

"Well, now that that is taken care of, this _boy_ would like to say something, and here it is. I'm inclined to agree with the Professor, here. I'm going to Hogwarts, Uncle Vernon, and there isn't anything you can do about it." Harry stopped when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Glancing to his right, he noticed Petunia looking at him a little oddly, almost as if she was lost in some distant and nearly forgotten memory.

Petunia had been silent since Snape's arrival, and finally shook herself free of her memories before speaking. "He's right, Vernon," she said softly to her husband. "We can't stop Harry from going if he really wants to."

"Petunia?" Vernon said, looking at his wife's face with confusion. She had been as adamant as he that their nephew would lead a normal life just that morning.

Ignoring her husband's pleading gaze and looking at Severus, she continued on, the edge in her voice returning and sharp enough to cut steel. "That does not mean, however, that we will take him to get his school things. I have better ways to spend the rest of my summer than traipsing through some magic store looking for the odds and ends he needs. I will never step foot in that place."

"Is that all?" Snape replied. As much as he was loath to say this, he knew Petunia Dursley meant what she had just said. "If so, I can take the boy to Diagon Alley on the morrow." At her nod, Snape turned to head for the door. "Then good day to you, Mrs. Dursley, Mr. Dursley. Mr. Potter, I will be back to pick you up at eight o'clock sharp." As soon as Severus was outside, and the door had shut behind his back, he quickly glanced around before turning on the spot. A sharp crack was heard as the Potions Professor apparated to Hogsmeade so he could report the day's events to the Headmaster.

**A/N:** Well, I'm back with another chapter. Sorry it took so long, I've been hard at work these past two months or so writing lore for the upcoming Minecraft roleplay server, Celestial Dreams. Please do go check it out at , even if only to read the story rather than play. Sadly, this chapter didn't turn out quite as tense as I had hoped, but what can you do? Anyways, next up should be the trips to diagon alley for both Harry and Hermione. See ya then!


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